What's In A Name?
by 1GuitarLover1
Summary: 'Finnick is beginning to think the only thing he shares with his father is his name. The mighty Finnick Odair was brave, charming, loyal and kind-hearted. He's pretty sure he's none of those things, even if his crazy mum and jaded Aunt Katty tell him other wise.' A series of one-shots documenting the life of Finnick Odair Jr.
1. What's In A Name?

**AN- My first Hunger Games fanfiction, in fact my first fanfiction in a very long time. I've been working on **_**actual**_** writing, but having just re-read the books I was struck again by my love of all things Finnick.**

"Your mum's going to worry."

I give a dismissive nod of my head, "She always worries."

Cora sighs behind me, but I still hear the gentle sinking of her feet in the sand as she walks away. Lately, the shore has been the only place I can find any peace. And the peace that I find is fleeting at best. Even now, I can feel the damp sand and icy water losing its appeal. Probably because my mother just revealed to me that my beach was actually _his_ beach too, and anything that was his could never really be mine. Yet another thing Finnick Odair has unknowingly taken from me.

I feel a great wave of shame crash over me, a familiar feeling when it comes to my late father. I must truly be some kind of monster to resent my dad when he is neither present to defend himself nor guilty of anything in the first place. Yet as selfish as it sounds, as much as my worries pale in comparison to that of my parents, my life _isn't_ easy. Being the son of a legend is daunting at the best of times.

I look out at the moon, its silvery light reflecting off the unsettled sea. It is getting pretty dark and I know I should go home. Cora was understating; my mum's probably lost in her own head with fear, eyes blinded by visions of her past. I hate making her worry, but I almost hate being home more. Every time she looks at me, I know she sees _him_.

Still I'm not _that_ much of a horrible son, so I gather my things, meaning the short length of rope I take with me everywhere, and head home. Our house is still situated in the Victor's Village, despite my mum hating it. Her and my dad's entire families were killed long before I was born. She didn't really have much choice. There was one other man who lived in the Victor's Village, but everyone refused to tell me about him, and I was banned from approaching his house.

When I did eventually unlock my front door, my mother was immediately at my throat, stuttering in that nervous way that she does.

"D-Damn it, Finnick! You know I h-h-hate it when you're home l-late!"

I press a kiss to her trembling cheek. She doesn't look well, but she never does around this time of year. It's the anniversary of the revolution soon or more importantly to us, of my dad's death, "'M sorry mum." I don't promise to never do it again. Chances are I'll stay out late tomorrow night too.

Her thin hands brush through her dirty, knotted hair and she sighs. My guilt has returned at the sight of her, along with concern. My mother is looking particularly fragile tonight and I want to punch myself for not being empathetic enough.

"I really am sorry," I offer again, "Are…are you alright?"

She smiles then, just big enough that I know I'm not really in trouble. Not that I ever thought I would be. She rests one hand on my cheek and the other pets down my hair, trying to tame my windswept mane.

"Look at me," she mutters, "have to lean up to kiss you now. You've grown up fast."

She does in fact have to stand on her tiptoes to kiss me goodnight. Before she reaches the stairs she pauses suddenly and freezes. I know that she's just sort of checked out of the world for a moment, as she often does. When I was younger it used to freak me out, but I understand now that's just what the Games did to her.

"Goodnight, mum." I say a bit too loudly, just to help her along.

Her head sort of twitches to the side before she nods and continues up the stairs. I swing past the kitchen and pour myself a glass of water, ignoring the mess my mother made of the house in my wake. Maybe she walked in her sleep again.

Things aren't perfect. They aren't even good. But from what I've heard, they've been much worse.


	2. Care For Me

**AN- This chapter isn't from Finnick's POV, but it is about him. Just something that's been in my head for a while. **

Peeta couldn't help but glance nervously around the corridors. He had been in 13 for some time now, and he was settling in the best he could, but the poison lingering in his brain caused such terrible paranoia sometimes. He wished his thoughts would just shut up for a while. He knew he was safe. There was no reason to be frightened. These were his friends; Delly he knew for sure was his friend. Still, he was glad he was alone in this part of the underground city. He was frightened of what he might do should he run into someone that might…set him off again.

Rounding the corner that would lead him back to his room, he bumped into a slight woman.

"Oh!" She exclaimed, "Oh, Peeta, it's just you."

He stepped back and tried to place her but he couldn't quite remember her name. She had tanned skin, and sort of ocean eyes, "I'm sorry…um, Anna? I-I can't remember. I'm really sorry."

She smiled gently, "Annie. It's Annie. We met a few days ago. Are you busy, Peeta? I was wondering if we could get to know each other better, what with you making my wedding cake and all."

"I'm making your wedding cake?" he felt his eyes grow wide and she let out a small laugh.

"Yes, you're a great baker."

"I _am?_"

She laughed again, "Come on, then."

Annie led him to her room, which was identical to his besides there being a double bed instead of a single. Well, it looked more like two single beds pushed together but he got the idea. He sat down hesitantly on the sheets as she did the same. His head felt like fog as he tried to remember her.

"Annie Cresta….I'm making your wedding cake and you're marrying…Finnick?"

"That's right."

He grinned, "Haven't forgotten everything, then."

She looked a bit hesitant before admitting, "You knew all of this yesterday, sweetie. We met after you…well, we just met after. Sometimes even your fresh memories get muddled up."

"Oh," he looked down at his lap, embarrassed, "M' sorry."

"Don't be silly. I was-," she took a sharp breath, "The Capitol, they had me too. We were rescued at the same time. I understand, what you're going through, that is."

She looked a bit dazed after she said this and Peeta was concerned for a moment until she blinked back into reality. That's right, Annie Cresta, the victor who went mad…yes, he remembers.

"Look Peeta, what I really wanted to say was that…I think we're very much alike."

He let out a snort. He was a monster, a vicious killer and now corrupted Capitol puppet. As the fog cleared, Peeta knew that Annie was none of these things; she was gentle, timid and definitely a victim. He wasn't a victim; he was the criminal.

"No you're not."

Looking up, he realised he had said the last part aloud. Annie reached out and wrapped her two tiny hands around one of his large fists. Her hands were worn, whether from work or from years of swimming through sea-salt he didn't know. But they were comforting, something homely to hold onto in the middle of the cold, concrete jungle.

"I just ruin things. I have terrible, awful thoughts all day long…"

"Peeta, they _brainwashed_ you. None of this is your fault. You're caught up in this mess, like every other victor." Her face softened then and she held one of her tanned hands to his cheek, "You're just like me. I was never meant to make it out of that arena. Neither were you."

At the mention of the arena, a spark of anger flickered in his chest. The arena…death….Katniss…the evil mutt, Katniss, she only kills and hates and murders…he took deep breaths and focused on Annie's beautiful eyes, focused, focused-

It was the first time someone finally admitted, besides himself, that he should have died in the arena. He'd known it all along, accepted his death the minute his name was called. He never should have lived. The arena wasn't built for him and he would have died if it weren't for Katniss. But he should have. Then his family, his district, would have been safe.

Annie was the same. He could remember now, watching her games all those months ago. She won because she was the best swimmer, a pure stroke of luck that she was born in District 4.

"We both made it out on Capitol mistakes," she mumbled, "And we wouldn't have lived otherwise. And it's not because we're weak, Peeta, not at all."

Her hands gripped both of mine tightly now, and her eyes were desperate as she tried to make me understand, "We aren't fighters. We are caretakers. We look after our loved ones at the expense of our own lives. You would have died for Ka-…for her, and I would die for Finnick in a heartbeat."

He could feel the fog clearing in his head, thoughts of Katniss no longer- at least at that moment- making him sick. He remembered, for the briefest of seconds, a muddy girl and a loaf of bread and pigs and the rain.

"Thank you," Peeta said, a small smile lingering on his face.

Then, just as quickly as it was there, the memory was gone and all he could see was Katniss cutting his father's throat-

He released Annie's hands and ran from her room as fast as his feet would take him.

* * *

Katniss gave an involuntary shiver of relief as she stepped inside her warm house. Thankfully Peeta had the smarts to start up a fire after she left to go hunting. She should go check that Haymitch hadn't frozen over in his barren house.

Slipping her jacket off, she started to filter through the mail that Peeta dumped on their dining table that morning. There isn't much; a few invitations from Plutarch to come to some events in the Captiol, meetings concerning the rebuilding of the districts and such. They usually ignored all of these. There was one letter though that was printed on ocean-green paper and was sealed with the emblem of District 4. The return address cited Annie Odair, No. 3 Victor's Village, District 4.

"Peeta, we've a letter from Annie!" she called excitedly.

Katniss realised she had barely thought about Annie and she felt extremely guilty about it. She should have been at least calling her over the last few months. As hard as they had been for Katniss, she couldn't imagine what Annie was going through. Finnick was one of her best friends, in the end. He deserved more. Katniss owed him more.

Peeta's heavy footsteps- he never was very quiet- thudded up the stairs as he returned from the cellar, "Is that right? Read it out then."

Peeta settled into a chair as she broke the wax seal. Katniss' eyes skimmed the letter and her face broke into a grin.

"What's it say?" Peeta asked eagerly.

"It's a birth announcement." Katniss mumbled, then more clearly she read, "_Peeta and Katniss. I'm sending this letter to announcement the birth of healthy baby Finnick Peeta Odair, 5 pounds 4 ounces. He has his father's eyes, skin, nose and just about everything else. Most definitely his attitude. Finnick is looking forward to meeting his Aunt and Uncle, hopefully very soon._"

"What?!" Peeta exclaimed, jumping from his chair, "She named him after _me?_"

"Apparently!" Katniss laughed, "Listen! _And to Peeta. I thought very carefully when picking Finnick's namesake. I gave him your name in the hopes that he will be just as loving, empathetic and kind as you. In the hopes that he will be a caretaker, just like you, just like me._"

The extra note confused Katniss, but she saw the tears welling up in Peeta's eyes and knew it must have meant something special to him. Peeta rushed to grab his coat and then run up stairs, leaving Katniss shocked at his sudden departure.

"What are you doing?" she yelled up the stairs.

"Packing! We're going to District 4, today!"


	3. How Could Anybody Deny You?

**AN- Saw Catching Fire twice this week. Oops. **

"Who's Mags?"

Haymitch looks down into the wide, green eyes of Finnick Odair. They are filled with curiosity, as the eyes of a five year old often are. Finnick had been full of questions all day long. _Why are there bottles everywhere? _Because he drinks from them. _Why do you drink so much?_ Because he's had a rough few years. _Why have you had rough years?_ Because of the war. _Tell me about the war, please Uncle Haymitch._

Normally Haymitch was immune to the questions of a child. He had sent so many children to their deaths in his lifetime that he had built up a wall to their sweet hearts and innocent questions. But now that the war was over, now that he owed Finnick Odair Sr. more than he could ever repay him, Haymitch found himself answering all of the young boy's questions. This one though, for a moment, has him completely stumped.

"What was that, buddy?"

Finnick, or Finn as he has started calling him, blinks up at him, "Who's Mags? When people come visit us at home they always talk about my dad and Mags. Who is she?"

Haymitch isn't sure how much Finn knows about the Games, and he doubts Annie would want him blabbing about a gruesome fight to the death when he's meant to be babysitting for the afternoon. He pats his lap and gestures for Finn to join him, who doesn't hesitate to scramble onto his Uncle's knees.

"What do you know about the Games, kid?"

"They are bad." Finnick states confidently, and yeah, that about sums it up for Haymitch, "They were before I was born. Mama says she's glad I don't have to play." Finn nods his little head as if to say 'that's all I got'.

"Well, Mags had to play." Haymitch says carefully. He brushes his dirty blonde hair off his face, using his other arm to steady Finn, "It was a long time ago, before the war and before your dad was born too."

"Before even _that_?" Finn's mouth drops open, as if time itself revolves around his father's life. Maybe for him it does. Haymitch feels his stomach churn.

"Yep, long before. But she won the Game. And everybody loved her."

This makes Finn smile, "I knew that. Mama says she loves Mags all the time. Was she a nice lady?"

"The nicest. I knew her too, for a real long time. Close to 30 years." Saying it aloud does not make Haymitch any happier about his age. Christ, he might need to sneak a drink before the girls get back.

Finnick holds up his fingers and starts counting them, "That's a lot. I don't have enough fingers for that long."

"Yeah kid, don't rub it in." Haymitch mumbles, "But you know that your dad had to play the Games, right?"

Finn sits up straighter at this and raises his chin, "Yes. And he won. My dad was the greatest and he won."

"Well, Mags helped him win. She took care of him, even after he won. Long after he won," he knew he had to tread carefully now, "Sometimes thinking about the Games made your dad sad, and Mags cheered him up and helped him keep living. She always looked out for him, no matter what. Gave him advice and loved him like her own son."

"But she wasn't his Mama?"

"Nope."

"So it's like you and Aunt Katniss?"

Haymitch cocks his head to the side, "What do you mean by that, Finn?"

"You and Aunt Katniss love each other and take care of each other like you're her dad but you're not. But you're still special for her." His eyebrows furrow as if he's struggling to explain himself. But he's right.

"Exactly right, kid."

"Then I like Mags. No, I love her. She loved my dad so I love her." He nods again, smiling.

Haymitch can't believe this kid sometimes. If he hears that someone so much as gave his dad a handshake he wants to know everything about them. His chest feels tight suddenly, and he wished Finnick was still around. Haymitch may have lost his mother, father, and brother, everyone he loved; but at least he knew them.

"So you're like Aunty Kat's dad?" Finn asks.

"I suppose so, a bit."

"Do you…can you be my dad too?" Finn is quiet when he asks this, head turned shyly down to look at his hands in his lap.

Haymitch can say nothing other than, "No. You have a father, and he was a far greater man than me, Finn."

Thankfully, he hears Annie and Katniss opening the door. They're chattering away, and he's glad to hear them both sounding so happy. Katniss may deny enjoying the company of other women, he knows deep down she loves doing silly, girly things sometimes. Just to feel normal, if only for a moment.

"Mama!"

Finn jumps off his lap and runs into the waiting arms of his mother. Haymitch follows slowly behind and gives Annie a tight smile.

"That's a good kid, you've got there."

It's all he can bear to say before he has to escape to a bottle and his dark, empty bedroom.


	4. Goodbye, Sweetheart

**AN- Thank you for the nice comments on the last chapter. I am not very pleased with this but thought I'd give you a little something for the nice reviews. **

Finnick watches quietly as Aunt Katniss washes the few remaining dishes. She is humming a tune, a sad little melody that makes Finnick think of only Haymitch. As if there is anyone or anything else he could possibly think about today.

"You know, with Haymitch gone, you're one of the last people alive who knew my mom and dad."

Aunt Kat's humming stops abruptly, and for all her soft sighing and forlorn nods Finnick knows just how hard Haymitch's death has struck her. How badly it has struck everyone. He can picture, clear as day, many afternoons spent in the old man's company, sitting on knees and spinning tales of the brave warrior Finnick Odair Sr. Finnick misses his friend so much his heart aches. He can't imagine how Aunt Kat is feeling.

"I suppose I am." The words makes Aunt Katniss sound a lot older than her 40 odd years. He suddenly feels bad about bringing this up but even though he's 30 years old, hearing about his father is the only thing that makes Finnick feel better when he's this upset.

"Yeah, there's only you, Uncle Peeta, Gale, Effie…oh! Johanna too. That's about it, I think."

She drops a dish into a sink full of soapy water and gives Finnick an annoyed look, "Well thank you for reminding me that so many of my friends are dead."

He feels his cheeks heat up, "Sorry, I-….I just can't help but think about them today. Funerals will do that to you."

"Finnick, an ocean breeze makes you think about them. I know that you'll understand that I don't want to think about your parents today." She sighs and dries her hands on a nearby towel. Aunt Kat has her hair in a childish braid that she tugs at now, and Finnick wonders why she wore her hair like that, "Today is for Haymitch."

He feels five years old again, "Of course, I'm terribly sorry. I shouldn't have said anything. Haymitch…he meant a lot to me too. I'm sorry I didn't get to spend more time with him."

"He loved you very much, Finn."

It was Haymitch's pet name for Finnick, and he hasn't heard it in so long that he feels tears sting his eyes, "Not as much as he loved you, Aunty Kat."

She sighs again and turns her eyes to the ceiling, something she does when she's trying not to cry. Aunt Katniss steps around the island to quickly take Finnick in her arms. Their hug is brief, as Finnick can hear Aunt Katniss sniffling. He knows she doesn't want him to see. She pulls back and turns away from him, resting a hand on her heart.

"Would you like me to get Uncle Peeta?"

"Yes sweetheart, thank you." She says gently.

Finnick abandons the room swiftly, leaving his Aunty to her grief. He is stopped only by the sound of Aunt Kat's voice trailing after him.

"Finn, wait!"

He turns back to see her reaching out to him, as if the space between them barely exists. He isn't sure what he's expecting her to say, but Aunt Kat's words tear through him like knives and settle somewhere painful in his heart,

"You remind me very much of my sister."

Forcing a smile, he quickly shuffles out of the room again. Families can be so confusing.

He just wishes he had someone to give him advice.


End file.
